


Skin Deep

by nouseforaname



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nouseforaname/pseuds/nouseforaname
Summary: Late night conversations in a dim apartment.
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Comments: 1
Kudos: 42





	Skin Deep

The dim light is barely enough to fill the tiny run down apartment. It’s coming from two small light fixtures on the wall, illuminating parts of the chipped paint and the scratched floorboards. One of them sits directly above a tiny dining table littered with empty Chinese takeout cartons and half a bottle of bourbon. If glasses were used to consume the other half, we’d never know, for they’re nowhere to be found. The bottle is, curiously, standing next to a desk lamp, which has also been turned on. It partially lights up the Patsy Cline poster half-heartedly tacked above it.

There’s another light shining from the kitchen; it’s fixed beneath the overhead cabinets, designed to light up the counters so you can clearly see what you’re chopping or mixing, but not a lot of cooking is done here. There’s simply no time.

The second light fixture is an identical twin to the first one and is situated directly across from it, right next to a stack of shelves.There’s a visible layer of dust coating all of the books and various knickknacks that haven’t been touched in years.

The one area that’s almost completely shrouded in darkness is the bedroom, situated at the far end. The bed sits below the only two windows in the entire apartment. The street lamps from outside filter in through the thin blinds; they’re just bright enough to tease a few pieces of clothing scattered around the mattress, the wrinkled sheets, and the two bodies nestled beneath them.

Darlene hums, closing her eyes and tilting her head back as she raises one hand to bury it in Dom’s hair. She lets out a soft gasp when she feels the redhead’s lips nimbly moving down the sensitive skin of her neck, her fingers twitching in between soft rusty strands. Her heart feels like it’s trying to punch itself out of her chest and her legs are still tingling; it’s been so long since they last did this that she actually forgot how good it was. It’s almost shameful to think they’ve only done it once before, and it’s even worse when she remembers why it happened in the first place.

“Jesus, Dom,” She splutters as the redhead’s teeth graze her collarbone. “Did you learn all of that when you were living it up in Europe for six months?”

Dom briefly pauses to let out a soft chuckle. “Did you really think I was gonna show you everything I know on that _one_ night we spent together?” She gently bites down; Darlene can feel the redhead’s lips curving into a satisfied grin against her skin when she gasps a second time.

Darlene’s other hand connects with Dom’s hair, weaving in and out between the wavy red wisps. “You’re implying that you were expecting more than just that one night.”

“Well, yeah.” She mumbles against her shoulder. “That was before I realized we actually weren’t genuinely connecting and you were just trying to steal from me.”

Darlene rolls her eyes. “I told you it was more than that.”

“Definitely didn’t feel like it at the time.” Dom mutters, and Darlene sighs.

“But you know now, right?” One hand moves from Dom’s hair to the right side of her head, pulling her away from her neck so they can meet eyes.

“Oh,” There’s a shit-eating grin spread wide on the redhead’s lips and Darlene isn’t sure if she wants to kiss or smack her for it. “So this isn’t a booty call?” Her expression suddenly contorts with mock discomfort, and Darlene decides right then and there that she wants to smack her.

“Fuck off, I’m being serious.” She groans as Dom laughs. “You already know how much I hated doing that to you.” She lowers her other hand to place it on the left side of Dom’s head. “I said I was sorry. I said it a million times.”

Dom’s eyes are soft; they’re easily visible even with the terrible lighting. She shifts a little to drop a kiss to the heel of Darlene’s palm. “I know.” Her voice is muffled against her skin. “It’s better this second time around, though - much better, actually.”

Darlene can’t help but smile at that. “Yeah? Why’s that?”

Dom leans in to kiss her. “Because you didn’t get up to break into my safe afterward.”

Darlene laughs against the redhead’s mouth. “I’m waiting for you to fall asleep first.”

Dom chuckles and shakes her head before kissing her again, and Darlene enthusiastically returns it. It’s almost cathartic to be like this - together, tangled in the sheets and with each other. It’s barely been a month since Dom came back, and to an outsider it might look like they’re moving too fast, but Darlene knows that this is where they’re supposed to be. Their relationship has never been a conventional one; it didn’t start like most relationships and it definitely didn’t progress like most relationships either. It just makes sense that they ended up here after the nightmare they were forced to put up with last year and the six months of separation that followed it.

After unintentionally swapping places at the airport and laughing about it over the phone hours later, listening to each other’s voices was all they had. Dom only stayed in Budapest for two weeks; she realized she had more than enough time to explore the rest of the continent, so that’s exactly what she did, which led to sporadic service - which also meant that in the very rare instances they were able to do a video call, the audio would be choppy and their screens would be laggy and pixellated. Dom would send Darlene pictures of the places she’s seen and the food she ate, but it was nothing compared to seeing her in real time, her stupid red hair flopped over her face like it always did and her grin stretched from ear to ear as she rambled about about her shitty sleeping habits, an anecdote about her mom, or something work-related - whatever her anxiety managed to conjure first.

Hearing Dom’s voice, even when Darlene was fortunate enough to hear it almost every day for six months, simply wasn’t enough. She didn’t just _want_ her close; she _craved_ her. She wanted to feel the fabric of her shirt against her cheek as she held her. She wanted to breathe her in, to have the steady thud of her heartbeat drumming against her ear. It got so bad sometimes that it almost felt like she was going through withdrawal. It brought an ache to her chest, an actual physical pain that weighed down on her late at night when she missed her most.

But thankfully that’s all over now. The second Dom emerged from the arrivals wing of the airport they picked up right where their last conversation left off, spending nearly every day together for the past few weeks, continuing to build up the longing that’s been vibrating so intensely between them since that day in Boston. They’re finally able to physically be together, but they still haven’t gotten as close as Darlene wanted - not until now, and she’s _so_ fucking glad the day has finally come.

Darlene’s fingers wander towards the small scar on Dom’s chest. She can’t see it in this dark room, but she can feel it; the skin is taut beneath her touch, and there’s a slight indent. She doesn’t allow herself to think too hard about where it came from; the memory is still relatively fresh and it hurts to recall, so she forces herself to think about something else by moving her hand to the side so she can touch the tattoos carved into Dom’s bicep. It’s a little difficult to make some of them out in the gloom, but her index finger manages to find the outline of the ouroboros on the redhead’s shoulder. The details on the snake have faded and blurred with time; this must be really old, maybe more than ten years.

“Not gonna lie,” Darlene breaks the comfortable silence with a small smile; her fingers are still skimming the tattoo on Dom’s shoulder. “When I saw these on you for the first time, I thought they were fake.”

Dom snorts before rolling off of her so she can lie on her side. She props herself up with an elbow as she watches Darlene’s hand run up and down her arm. “Why would I have fake tattoos around someone who already knows what I look like?”

“I dunno.” Darlene shrugs. “Maybe you just came back from some covert undercover mission or something.”

“I work in the cyber crimes division.” The redhead quirks an eyebrow. “There’s rarely a need for undercover operatives.”

“You could’ve been spying on other people from fsociety.” Darlene suggests. “It just seemed like the most obvious answer at the time - you probably watched, like, twenty minutes of Hackers or The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo and thought that every girl who codes has half-sleeves.” Her hand stops over the ouroboros. “It was just really hard to believe that a stick in the mud such as yourself would do something like this.”

Dom rolls her eyes. “Thanks.”

“Can you blame me, though?” Darlene laughs. “You’re this uptight FBI agent who stuck me in a safe house for a few weeks. Our first actual conversation was an interrogation and it happened literally right after my boyfriend was fucking murdered. What else was I supposed to think?”

“Fair enough.” Dom runs a hand back over her hair to push it away from her eyes. “Well, I’m sure you figured it out by now, but they’re not fake.”

“Thanks for finally confirming after all these months.” Darlene smirks as Dom rolls her eyes again. “There’s a story behind them. Tell me.”

The redhead snorts. “You don’t need an elaborate story or a specific reason to get a tattoo.”

“I know you, Dom.” Her lips are still tilted in that same smirk. “You _always_ need a reason to do things.”

A few seconds of silence pass before Dom finally decides to indulge her. She sighs as she runs her fingers through her hair. “I was a bit of a history buff in college-”

“I thought you went to school for law.”

“I minored in history when I was doing my undergrad.” Dom shrugs. “Some of my classes touched on eastern mythology - that’s where I learned about this.” She turns to nod at the ouroboros. “This was the first one I got - junior year, spring break.”

“I know this one.” Darlene flattens her palm against the snake. “Something about eternity, I think - like how life doesn’t actually end at death, or something.”

“Yup.” Dom nods. “It originated in ancient Egypt, then the Greeks introduced it to the west. It symbolizes the cyclical nature of the universe: Birth, death, and rebirth.”

“What, like reincarnation?”

“I guess that’s one way to look at it,” Dom shrugs. “But the way I see it, it’s more like...I dunno, when we die, our bodies return to the earth so they can give life to something else. Everything is connected.”

Darlene lights up. “Oh, like The Lion King.”

Dom laughs out of disbelief. “What?”

“Remember the part when Mufasa teaches Simba how the Circle of Life works?” Darlene lowers her voice in a feeble attempt to impersonate James Earl Jones. _“When we die, our bodies become the grass, and the antelopes eat the grass - and so we are connected in the great Circle of Life.”_

Dom throws her head back to laugh. “How the hell do you remember that? I haven’t watched it in years.”

“Because the Lion King is a great fucking movie, that’s how.” Darlene scoffs just as Dom laughs again.

“I mean, that’s pretty much what it means, so Mufasa’s right.”

Darlene continues to caress the redhead’s arm. “And this concept was so cool to you that you just had to get it permanently inked on yourself?”

“I was twenty-one and knowing something like that made me feel like I was this deep intellectual type.” Dom chuckles. “Barely three years of college and I thought I was so cultured and worldly - typical ivory tower bullshit. The tattoo was just the icing on top of the cake - so not only was I super smart, but I was cool too...at least in my head. I doubt other people actually thought I was cool.”

It’s hard to picture Dom as cocky or self-absorbed; she’s too levelheaded to overestimate herself like that. Darlene kind of wishes she knew this version of her. She wonders what she must’ve been like back then - was she less calculated and more spontaneous? The tattoo sort of gives her that impression. What kind of friends did she have, if she had any? What did she do in her spare time? Was she a better sleeper? Would she be a fun date?

“Wow.” Darlene snorts. “You sounded like an asshole.”

“Who wasn’t an asshole at that age?” Dom laughs. “I got over myself eventually, but I still find that kind of stuff interesting.”

“Is that how you got all the others?” Darlene switches to the redhead’s other arm. The ouroboros is the odd one out; every other tattoo on Dom’s body is done in the same style. They’re definitely East Asian in origin; they kind of remind her of the tattoos she’d see on yakuza bosses in those old Japanese gangster movies Cisco would force her to watch with him.

“I got these after law school.” There’s a semi-awkward pause as Dom sheepishly dips her head. “After, uh, I dodged that proposal.”

Darlene doesn’t need her to elaborate; she still remembers the night they had this conversation and how the both of them were surprised to learn that running away from marriage proposals was another thing they had in common. It’s just one of the billions of things they talked about during those six painful months spent apart.

Now that they’re no longer on opposing sides and they don’t have the safety of their families dangling over their heads, it’s incredibly easy for Darlene to hold a conversation with Dom. In a sense it always was easy to talk to her, but back then they didn’t have time for intimate conversations like these; there was always a deadline to meet, new information to divulge, or a task to accomplish - but now that the world has been saved and Dom’s family is no longer in imminent danger, they only have themselves to talk about. Darlene is finally getting a better glimpse at Dom as a person, an actual human being who’s so much more than an FBI agent, and to no one’s surprise she likes what she sees so far. In fact, the more she learns about Dom, the more she wants to be around her.

With anyone else she would’ve been up and gone a long time ago; pillow talk was never her thing before Dom came along. Now, all she wants to do is talk. She wants to absorb as much about her as she can. She wants all of her to herself; she’s never experienced such an intense desire to be with someone before. It’s a little unnerving, but she’s trying to embrace it. It’s good to be attached to people so long as she can healthily manage these attachments, which is what she thinks she’s doing. This is definitely much better than the codependency she had with Cisco, so she knows at the very least that she’s going in the right direction.

“I wanted a fresh start. I guess you can say a part of me wanted to reinvent myself too. I was finally done with school, I was single again - I was starting a new chapter in my life and I wanted to make some changes to reflect that.” Dom’s eyes are dark as they track Darlene’s hand slowly running up and down her arm. “Some people cut their hair when they go through a breakup; I got tattoos and joined the FBI.”

“Why did you go with these?” There are so many to look at, but Darlene goes with one of the biggest pieces; she swipes a finger across the face of a woman a little higher up on the redhead’s arm, closer to her shoulder. Her hair is done up, her face is covered with makeup, and she’s wearing an elaborately patterned gown; it looks like a kimono.

 _“Irezumi_ \- the Japanese word for tattoo.” Dom’s expression brightens as she dives into her explanation. “It literally translates to _inserting ink,_ so it’s actually referring to the tattooing process than the art style, but nowadays it’s used for both. There’s a whole history behind it, and I was obsessed with it for awhile. You can get lost reading up on the techniques they used. They had all these terms for specific body parts and the types of tattoos that went with them, and every symbol has, like, a million meanings. There are so many ways to interpret them.”

Dom’s gushing a little, and it’s showing off her nerdy side. Darlene absolutely loves it when this happens. “So tell me about them.” She gently presses down on the tattoo of the fancy dressed up lady with the pad of her index finger to emphasize her request.

“The geisha’s official job is to be an entertainer and a hostess, but a lot of men liked being around them because of the company they provided. They made them feel special, like they were the smartest, most interesting person in the room - but it’s not because they actually felt that way. It’s just their job to make these guys feel important.” Dom pauses to brush a few strands of hair away from her face. “Geisha are known for being mysterious; they never show their true selves when they’re on the job. They always leave you guessing, wanting more.” Dom lowers herself back on the bed and inches just a bit closer towards Darlene. “It’s a whole lifestyle; traditionally, training starts when you’re really young, like I’m talking barely being old enough to be in school. It’s a super rigorous process that takes a lot of discipline and dedication.”

“So, in a way, it’s kind of like being an FBI agent.” Darlene adds, and Dom nods in agreement.

“Yeah, sorta. Both jobs require putting up a certain kind of front, a persona you have to keep up. I guess it’s one of the reasons why the idea of the geisha appealed to me at the time.” Dom chuckles to herself. “I was still at the academy when I got this, but it was a reminder of what I had to become in order to be an agent, if that makes sense. I had to put myself in a similar mindset.”

“Well, seeing as you’re the youngest Assistant Special Agent in Charge the bureau has ever seen, I think it’s safe to say you definitely mastered that mindset.” Darlene grins, and Dom rolls her eyes.

“The Dark Army got me that position. It was a technicality.”

“And the FBI let you keep it even after all the shit that happened.” Darlene shakes her head. “It’s not every day you commit a ton of crimes and your bosses decide to overlook all of them so you can keep your job. That speaks more to how good you are rather than the strings the Dark Army pulled.”

Dom sighs in resignation. “I guess so.”

“You know I’m right.” Darlene drops her hand to the skull inked beneath the geisha. “This is an interesting contrast.”

“Skulls aren’t as foreboding or bleak in irezumi.” Dom throws her a small smile. “It can be interpreted as a symbol for change - the death of something old and the start of something new. The skull is a reminder to embrace that.”

“Makes sense.” Darlene hums in thought. “It goes with your whole _starting over_ thing.”

“It’s also there to remind me that I can’t plan ahead for everything.” Dom shrugs. “Sometimes shit just happens, and I have to learn to adapt to that.” She playfully nudges her nose against the side of Darlene’s head; her breath is warm against her ear as she chuckles quietly. “You’re a perfect example.”

Darlene’s mouth splits into a wide, toothy grin. How can Dom say something like that and _not_ make her feel stupidly giddy about it? “I’m your happy accident.”

“It wasn’t so happy at first,” Dom snorts, and Darlene can’t help but laugh with her. “But yeah, you are - and even though things were really shitty at first, I don’t think I’d have it any other way.”

Something warm starts to swell in the pit of Darlene’s stomach, rising up to her chest and filling the spaces between her ribs. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Dom hums as she moves in to kiss her. It’s slow, gentle, methodical; her hand moves to the small of Darlene’s back to pull her further into the kiss.

She places a hand on the redhead’s cheek just as they break apart. “Why?” She’s breathless and her eyes are glazed over; there’s just something about the way Dom kisses her like that. It’s nothing like those frenzied inebriated kisses on that first night they spent together, or the big dramatic kiss Darlene flung on her when they were finally reunited six months after they missed each other in Boston; these kinds of kisses make her feel drunk without swallowing a single drop of alcohol. She can’t figure out if it’s because she really, _really_ likes her, or if it’s because Dom is just a good kisser. It could be both. Whatever it is, Darlene wants more of them. She’s pretty sure she’ll never get enough.

“Because things might not be so good now if we didn’t have to go through all of that bad stuff first.” Dom murmurs as she drums her fingers against Darlene’s lower back. “It has to get worse before it gets better, right?”

There’s a pause; Darlene’s eyes break contact with Dom’s, choosing to stare at the redhead’s shoulder instead. “When I missed the plane and couldn’t get a hold of you right away, I really thought I was never going to see you again. I thought you left because you were just done with me and wanted to move on with your life.” She shakes her head. “The saddest part was that I couldn’t blame you. I put you through so much shit; I wouldn’t have wanted to stick around either.”

“I left for ten minutes and then I changed my mind.” Dom chuckles. “I clearly wanted to see you again, Darlene.”

“How the hell was I supposed to know that?” She grumbles.

“I called you back, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, _hours_ later.”

Dom’s tone is indignant. “I couldn’t call you right away; I was on the plane.”

“Whatever.” Darlene pouts just as Dom rolls her eyes. “It sucked a lot, and it sucked being away from you for so long.”

“We talked almost every day.” Dom bluntly points out.

“But it wasn’t the same.” Darlene whines before leaning in to fit her head into the curve of the redhead’s neck. She closes her eyes and breathes in deep, sighing with relief when she feels the warmth of Dom’s arms closing in on her. _“This_ was what I wanted. I wanted you here with me - like, _really_ here with me, and not just your face on a screen or your voice through a speaker.”

“I think it was good that we spent some time apart, though.” Dom murmurs into her hair. Her hand is moving in slow circles on Darlene’s back and it’s making her sleepy. “We both had shit to work on first before we could...you know.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Darlene begrudgingly mumbles into the crook of Dom’s neck. “But that doesn’t mean I liked it.”

“It was hard, but it made things better for us in the end.” Dom squeezes her waist. “If we actually ended up going to Budapest together, we would’ve killed each other. We couldn’t be who we were back then if we wanted this to work; some things had to change, and we needed the space to make that happen.” She drops a kiss to her forehead. “We both had to grow up a little.”

Darlene immediately thinks back to their conversation at the airport and she starts to ache all over again, as if she’s about to part ways with Dom a second time. She tightens her hold on her just in case. “I think we’ve done enough individual growing for now.”

Dom chuckles before dipping her head to kiss her on the mouth. Darlene laughs into the kiss before raising her hands to frame Dom’s face; she flops on her back, pulling Dom on top of her, closing her eyes as the redhead leans in further.

They break apart much later, both of them breathing heavily and their faces flushed pink. One of Darlene’s hands move downward to rest on the redhead’s bicep, tracing another one of her tattoos with her fingers; she’s just about to open her mouth when Dom shakes her head and swiftly moves in to silence her with another kiss. “I just gave you three personal stories in a row - now you have to give me three in return.”

Darlene huffs immediately after they pull apart. “Seriously?”

“It’s only fair.”

“You technically only gave me two.” Darlene raises an eyebrow at her. “The third story wasn’t really a story - it was just about us.”

Dom shrugs. “It’s still personal.”

“I wasn’t aware this was transactional.” Darlene rolls her eyes.

“Give me a break; I don’t want to talk about myself all night.” Dom gingerly slides a thumb over the faded line of text etched on the inside of her bicep, and Darlene can feel it ripple across her entire body; she almost shivers beneath her. “Never pegged you for the spiritual type.”

Darlene quirks an eyebrow at her. “You know what it says?” She almost wants to slap herself the second those words leave her mouth. Of course Dom would know.

 _“Honin My_ o.” The redhead’s voice is low and gravelly. Her eyes are laser focused on the tattoo, her thumb gently brushing back and forth on her skin. “A Buddhist expression - it translates to _This moment forward_. It basically means to live in the present and put your past behind you.” Her brow subtly crinkles as she sinks deeper in thought, and Darlene is tempted to reach up and smooth it out with herfingers. “Makes sense for you, I guess.”

“It’s not as deep as you think.” She snorts. “When Cisco and I were on one of our many breaks I was sorta, not really, seeing this chick - friend of a friend, met by chance at some party I wandered into. New Age kind of girl - had a dumb crystal collection, structured her days around her horoscope readings, burned sage all the fucking time - she was super into all that shit.”

It’s Dom’s turn to snort. “Sounds exactly like your type.”

Darlene rolls her eyes before continuing. “It wasn’t anything serious; it was more like a friends with benefits sorta thing, and it only lasted for a few months. I wasn’t into her or anything; I guess I just needed company. I was alone and she was just...there. So I took advantage of that, as shitty as that sounds.” She pauses for a moment as one end of her mouth curves into a sly smirk. “She also grew some really great fucking weed.”

“And you got a tattoo for her?”

“It wasn’t for her.” Darlene shakes her head. “She had all these books about eastern philosophy lying around and sometimes we’d get really baked and spend an afternoon reading them. I’d listen to her talk about all sorts of shit - reincarnation, karma, and there was _a lot_ about suffering. Buddhists are really hung up on that.”

“One of Buddhism’s core beliefs is that our suffering is brought on by our never ending need to meet our desires.” Dom pulls her hand away from Darlene’s arm to brush her hair back. “Material desire and pleasure are needs that we are constantly trying to satisfy, which leaves us empty, which then leads to more suffering. It’s a lot more complicated than that, but the general idea is that we can only achieve true happiness by learning to let go of those desires and our connection to the material world.”

“I thought you minored in history.”

“I took some classes on religion and philosophy too.” Dom casually replies. “They’re part of history.”

This somehow makes her even more attractive, which kind of weirds Darlene out, but this is a good thing. This is Dom in her purest form, and there’s nothing about it she doesn’t like.

“God, you’re such a nerd.” She playfully rolls her eyes as she chuckles, and Dom laughs softly alongside her.

“We’re getting off topic. So you were casually seeing this hippie, and then...?”

“She brought up that phrase during one of our conversations, and I dunno,” Darlene shrugs. “It just kinda stuck with me. It made sense at the time. It’s all I’ve been doing since I can remember - living day to day, trying to focus on the now and what to do next, rather than what already happened. Aside from Elliot, it was the only thing that got me through growing up in that shitty house. I’d just keep telling myself that I was gonna get out of this somehow, that this wasn’t gonna last forever. I was gonna get out of here...” She shrugs again. “And I did.” She turns her head to glance at the tattoo; the edges are bleeding out and the ink isn’t as dark as it used to be. “I guess I wanted to get something to remind me of that.”

“So it does mean something.” Dom smirks. “You said it wasn’t as deep as I thought it was.”

“Okay, fine - I guess there was a meaning behind it.” Darlene rolls her eyes. “But there’s your story.”

“It’s a good story.” Dom smiles, and Darlene returns it before cupping a hand behind her neck to pull her in for a kiss. Their lips are still brushing against one another when her side tingles with Dom’s fingertips ghosting along her skin.

“What about this one?” The redhead moves her head to murmur this into her ear, and this time Darlene actually shivers.

She glances down at the stack of elegantly scripted numbers high up on the side of her rib cage, and she laughs. “Oh, that was a drunken mistake.”

Dom furrows her brow again. “It’s a really nice tattoo for a drunken mistake.”

“That’s what happens you date a tattoo artist.” Darlene chuckles. “I was, like...eighteen when I met this guy - another party, another friend of a friend, same shit.”

“I’m sensing a recurring pattern here.”

Darlene shoots her a quick glare. “Shut up - anyways, he was still an apprentice at the time and he would do free tattoos for people at all the parties he’d go to. We were dating for about three months when I asked him to do something on me.”

Dom tilts her head to get a better look at it. “This looks like a date - October 14th, 1987.”

“That was his fucking birthday.” Darlene laughs again. “God, I was so fucking stupid.”

Dom laughs with her. “You got this guy’s birthday tattooed on your ribs?”

“I couldn’t think of anything else.” Darlene counters. “All of the other girls were asking for the same predictable shit - a butterfly, a flower, that dumb ass flock of birds everyone has on the back of their shoulder.”

“So you told him to tattoo his birthday on you?”

“I told him to surprise me, which was way worse.”

“And the surprise was his birthday?” Dom is laughing again. “Aren’t artists supposed to be creative? And why your ribs, of all places?”

“Everyone else was getting shit on their arms, legs, shoulders - super boring.” Darlene shrugs. “I wanted to be cool and different. It hurt like a bitch, but I got the street cred at least.”

“Well, at least he got the date right.” Dom grins, and Darlene rolls her eyes before breaking out into a fit of hushed laughter.

“My tattoos’ origin stories aren’t as insightful or interesting as yours, but they’re good memories to have, I guess.” Darlene slowly exhales through her nose as she reaches up to place a hand on on Dom’s cheek.

“They were plenty interesting.” Dom confirms before lowering her head to rest it on Darlene’s shoulder. “Alright, so that’s two. One more.”

“Those are the only two I have.” Darlene groans as she threads her fingers through Dom’s hair. “There isn’t a third story to tell.”

“It doesn’t have to be tattoo-related.” Dom’s fingertips are dancing across her skin, trailing down the inner part of her bicep towards her elbow. “You can tell me anything - I want to hear all of it.”

There is nothing more attractive to Darlene than Dom’s willingness to know her better. Just Dom as a person puts her miles ahead of anyone she’s ever dated before, but the way she encourages her to open up, to talk about things she normally wouldn’t talk about with anyone - and that includes Elliot - just makes her so much more special. Before Dom, vulnerability was never an option with anyone. It wasn’t even a passing thought. No one ever made Darlene feel safe enough to just open up the way she is now, but it feels so organic with Dom. She knows her better than anyone; there’s nothing she can hide from her, and normally that would scare the shit out of her, but since it’s with Dom, it’s different. Everything with Dom is different, and she loves it.

“What happened here?”

Darlene lifts her head off the pillow to stare at what Dom is inquiring about. The redhead’s thumb is stroking a moderately sized scar at the top of her hip; it’s nearly two inches in length and it hugs the bone, simpering back as if to mockingly remind her of the sad memory it’s associated with.

“You sure you wanna hear it?” She asks grimly. “I’m warning you now - it’s not a happy story.”

“Of course I do.” Dom replies almost immediately, lifting her head to meet eyes with her. The look she’s giving her is so earnest that it almost hurts. “But only if you want to tell me.”

Darlene will never admit it out loud, but she’s pretty certain that she’s come to a point where she’ll willingly tell Dom anything if she asked.

“I got this right after my dad’s funeral.” She frowns. “We get home from the burial, and my mom starts freaking out. She was screaming and throwing things, being more psycho than usual. I guess it was her own fucked up way of dealing with everything that happened.” She pauses to take a deep breath. “Anyways, Elliot was pretty much out of it the whole day, so he wasn’t in any condition to help. I already felt alone having to deal with the funeral and our dad dying, and then I was alone again watching our mom act out. I was just...so, _so_ angry. I didn’t want to be in that house. I didn’t want a crazy bitch for a mom or an empty husk for a brother. I just needed to get out.” Darlene shakes her head. “So I hopped on my scooter and left. It was early March so it was still really cold, but I didn’t care. I had to leave. It didn’t matter where I was going or where I ended up. I just needed to get as far away from that place as I possibly could.” Darlene chuckles humourlessly to herself. “I was barely at the end of our street when I rode over a patch of ice that was hidden by some snow, and I completely wiped out. I fell on my side, which is why I have this.” She nods at the scar. “Taking a slab of solid concrete to the hip was pretty gnarly. It was bruised for weeks. I bled through my dress, though you couldn’t tell at first glance ‘cause it was black. I literally tried to run away from home in funeral clothes. It’s kind of funny now, when I think back on it.”

Darlene takes a second to study Dom’s expression. She can’t tell if she’s still trying to process what she just told her, or if she’s so mortified by the details of the story that she can’t believe it’s real. “Jesus, Darlene.” Her voice is soft when she finally speaks up; she curls a hand against her hip, covering the scar with her palm. “Did you go to the hospital?”

“Nope.” She shakes her head, and when Dom gapes at her she laughs again. “I picked up my scooter and limped all the way back home. I had no choice. It was so cold that I probably would’ve froze to death if I stayed out, and I didn’t want to leave Elliot alone with our mom. He didn’t deserve to put up with her bullshit all by himself.” Darlene gives a halfhearted shrug. “So I go back, covered in mud and snow and blood; she’s screaming again, hitting me with whatever she could find, and at this point I just give up. I just...stood there and took it, because what else could I do?”

“But you said that you kept telling yourself that you were gonna get out of this someday.”

“Eventually, yeah, but not in that moment. I was only four; this was all I knew.” Darlene shrugs again. “At the time, it just felt like this was the way things were gonna be, and I had to find a way to put up with it. This was my life, and I had to accept it no matter how much I hated it. It took me a few years to realize that I was wrong, and that it was possible for things to change, but the change had to be up to me. If I wasn’t gonna do anything about it, no one would. I had to take matters into my own hands.” She places a hand over Dom’s - the one that’s still holding onto her hip. “That was the first time I ever tried to run away. It definitely wasn’t my last, but you already know that.”

Her sordid childhood was another topic they explored during those long months without each other’s physical presence. Darlene was surprised at how comfortable she felt talking about it with Dom; she normally hates talking about how she grew up, even with Elliot. Talking to Dom makes Darlene so comfortable that she was actually okay with divulging the true nature of their father and the extent of the damage he dealt to her brother. She also knows about the kidnapping story, the sad little pile of rocks Darlene and Elliot used to play in, the incident with Moon Pie, and all the times they broke into the zoo with Angela. She isn’t kidding around when she says Dom knows everything.

“Honestly,” Dom gives Darlene’s hip an affectionate squeeze. “Every time you tell me something new about your childhood I always think it can’t get any worse, and then you tell me another story and it actually gets worse.”

Darlene laughs. “I know, it’s really fucked up...but all I can really do about it now is look back on it and laugh at how unreal it was. They say trauma makes you funnier.”

Dom furrows her brow. “But there’s nothing funny about what you and Elliot went through.”

“Yeah, but it’s better than letting it depress me or getting pissed off about it.” She shrugs. “I tried the angry thing, remember? It didn’t work out so well.”

Dom’s expression softens and she leans in until the ends of their noses bump up against one another. “I like you either way, but I kinda like you more now that you’re not so angry.”

Darlene can feel her stomach doing backflips. She’s never had that happen with anyone else; Dom’s the only one who ever provoked it. The first time it happened - it was the day after the airport incident and she was sitting in nervous excitement waiting for Dom to call her like she promised she would - she thought she was coming down with something.

“I just like you, period.” Darlene grins before pulling Dom down for a kiss. She’s still grinning when they break apart. “So, now that I gave you three stories, are you gonna tell me where the rest of your tattoos come from?”

“Maybe later.” Dom hums against her mouth; Darlene can feel her lips curling upward in a small smile. “I’m hungry. Wanna split a grilled cheese sandwich?”

It’s obvious the redhead’s stalling for time, but Darlene can’t say no to free food. “I would _love_ a late night post-coital grilled cheese.” She happily mumbles against Dom’s lips. “That just so happens to be my favourite kind of sandwich.”

Dom heaves a sigh and chastely kisses her before pulling away to get out of bed. “You didn’t have to word it like that.”

“Yes I did.” Darlene insists as she picks up her underwear and Dom’s shirt off the floor so she can slip them on. After Dom finishes changing into a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, she eagerly jumps out of bed and follows the redhead to the kitchenette. She hops up to sit on the counter, legs swinging off the edge, and watches Dom smear mayonnaise on a couple pieces of bread before tossing them into a small pan with a few slices of cheese. The bread darkens to a crispy golden brown in mere minutes, and Dom hastily slices the sandwich in half so she can hand one piece over to Darlene.

“To us, our super cool tattoos,” Darlene taps the corner of her sandwich against Dom’s in a toast. “And to finally growing up.”

Dom laughs as she steps closer, easing herself between Darlene’s legs as she wraps an arm around her waist. She briefly glances up to smile at her before moving in for a kiss.

“I don’t think we’re there yet.” She whispers just as their lips separate; her eyes are half-open but her gaze is heavy with something Darlene has never seen in anyone else before. She’s not exactly sure what it is, but it’s compelling; it’s drawing her in, beckoning her to come closer even though their mouths are barely an inch apart. “We still have plenty of growing to do.”

Darlene rests her forearms on Dom’s shoulders and crosses her ankles behind her back. “But we can grow together now, right?”

Dom smiles, and it’s full of that... _something_ she had in her eyes just moments ago. It’s bright, warm; Darlene wonders if she gives this _something_ to anyone else - maybe her family, but her gut doesn’t seem to think so. It just doesn’t seem plausible that the redhead would reserve this just for her - but what if she’s right?

“Yeah.” Dom finally replies as she moves in just a bit closer. “We have all the time in the world to grow into whatever we want to be.”

Oh, she likes the sound of that.

Darlene beams at her before leaning in to finally close the gap, but Dom backs away just in time; she chuckles at Darlene’s bewildered expression before taking a big bite out of her grilled cheese. “What? I said I was hungry.”

Darlene rolls her eyes before biting into her sandwich. “You’re lucky you’re so good at making these.”

They both laugh before passing the rest of the evening with hushed conversation, stolen kisses, and melted cheese.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Darlene Alderson.


End file.
